fatal attraction
by seaworthi
Summary: After a night of drinking, the chatelaine finds herself in the company of Akechi Mitsuhide and learns the meaning of fatal attraction.


_Like a serpent blended in with the leaves, the danger had been there for hours by the time she'd noticed it. But the warning signs were there, and she should have seen them— from the first blackout (courtesy of Masamune slumping onto the table) to the last (Nobunaga, who'd excused himself to his room for a well-deserved rest), she should have known it would end up this way._

 _End up with her sitting cross-legged across from Mitsuhide, who calmly poured himself another cup of sake._

 _"Care for another helping?"_

 _"Aren't you the reason nobody else is sober right now? No, thank you."_

 _And so it went, the chatelaine snarking at the vassal through a half-intoxicated, half-sober scowl, the latter only chuckling with an amused "suit yourself" and treating himself to another drink._

 _Yet who knew that such a slender thing would be able to match a cultured, powerful viper of a man drop for drop in warm liquor?_

* * *

The beginning of the party had been more vanilla than I had expected of warlords— the alcohol hadn't even come out of the cellar until three hours in. It began only as a small celebration among Nobunaga's vassals to celebrate a battlefield victory, if one could even call it that; it was more like winning a playground scuffle, but clearly one that was enough to merit a night in with drinks and card games.

It had been around eleven that the first red flags began to appear: Masamune had long since passed out and been moved to a futon in the far corner of the room, and Hideyoshi would clench in a hiccup every few seconds then disappear to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. It was then that I encountered him red in the face, smiling lazily, and chugging a glass of the stuff in an attempt to cool down.

"I'm surprised you've managed to last this long," Hideyoshi quipped, biting his lip in a suppressed smile. "I never would have expected you to be able to outdrink all of us. You look more sober now than I was three drinks ago."

"I _can_ hold my alcohol, Hideyoshi." I gave a grin of my own, following him back out to the main room, a platter of snacks balanced skillfully on my arm. "Where I come from, a girl learns to drink."

"And good thing, too. You'll want to be sober around the likes of Mitsuhide."

"Mitsuhide?" I frowned, casting a sidelong glance in the direction of the man in question. "What do you mean?"

"Just what it sounds like." A grudging laugh. "That snake could drink a thousand cups of wine and not even get a little tipsy."

And with that warning, Hideyoshi gave a long stretch and sprawled across a cushion, tucking his glass close to his body, and closed his eyes.

 _A thousand cups, huh?_ I could feel my frown deepen as I observed Mitsuhide chatting wih Ieyasu, golden eyes as sharp as ever. _No way I'm letting that rat get a one-up on me . . . I'll just have to stay alert._

* * *

As with all women determined as myself, I focused on calculating carefully just how much I could drink without falling prey to drunkenness, and with great success. The hours ticked by, and so did our companions, excusing themselves to their rooms or simply passing out on the spot.

But there was one crucial detail I'd missed in my calculations: just what I would _do_ with my sobriety when the only two still lucid were myself and the shifty vassal, Mitsuhide.

(Really, I could have thought ahead and avoided this altogether.)

Nerves completely fried, I wrung my hands on my lap beneath the table, avoiding eye contact with the man as he lapsed into steady silence following Ieyasu's departure. And _oh_ , how I dearly wished I could do the same— if it weren't for my severe distrust of Mitsuhide with an unconscious Hideyoshi snoozing blissfully on the couch, I would have been out the door in seconds. But as it was, I didn't have the physical strength to move a guy like Hideyoshi somewhere safer or the trust necessary to leave him alone with the man I was left alone with myself.

Even if a small, deeply buried part of me insisted there was more to him than I expected.

"Seamstress."

An electric shock ran down my spine at the baritone voice, deceptively gentle and smooth and yet enticing at the same time. My senses snapped back to Mitsuhide— perhaps I wasn't as in control as I thought— and I raised an eyebrow, questioning.

"Do you plan just to sit there the entire night? That'll get incredibly boring for me, you know."

"Be bored, then, Mitsuhide. Sorry I'm not your personal jester."

"I wonder, then, why you're still here."

 _Because Hideyoshi will probably kill me if he finds out I willingly left him unconscious with you!_

"I know what you're thinking," I retorted, lips turning downward into a scowl. "And no, it's not for the pleasure of your company."

"Then I suppose it's to protect Hideyoshi from me while he's passed out and vulnerable like that."

 _This damn snake! I swear, is he telepathic or something?_

"It's quite alright." Mitsuhide lifted the cup of sake to his lips— this had to be at least his eighth one!— and took a long sip, eyes gleaming over the rim as he regarded me with interest. I squirmed beneath the gaze, feeling like an ant under a magnifying glass. "Your mistrust is well-placed."

Alarm bells flared in my mind, screeching and blaring like the inside of a firehouse. I narrowed my eyes. "So you admit it, then?"

I didn't know what I expected of the man sitting across from me, demeanor calm and eyes teasing. But I didn't expect this pit of disappointment in my stomach, so faint it was barely there, to settle so surely. Disappointed. Not surprised. Yet a flicker of what I could have sworn was sadness flashed through those gold eyes, gone before I even registered it was there.

Mitsuhide didn't answer. instead, he let down his cup and twirled it on the table between long, elegant fingers. He smiled at me— that crafty, secretive smile that made my muscles tense up each time I saw it. Yet it was almost friendly and genuine, as if we were two long-time friends sharing an inside joke.

 _An inside joke?_ I found myself intrigued at the notion, seeing as my feelings for him were certainly more intense dislike than anything else. Hideyoshi and Nobunaga wanted so much to believe that he wasn't a traitor that I found myself doing the same, but the frustration that he always brought about was nothing to be ignored. I blinked, realizing I didn't know much about him at all. _Come to think of it . . ._

"I think this is the most time I've ever spent alone with you, Mitsuhide," I blurted, breaking the silence. He seemed surprised as I felt, that I was the one to initiate a new conversation. Nevertheless, I leaned forward. "Everytime we've spoken, it's in a group and I've never really bothered talking to you."

"Never bothered? That stings." The way his smile didn't waver told me it didn't sting at all. "But you're right. You and I haven't ever gotten to know each other."

Quicker than I could comprehend, he leaned forward across the table as well, propping himself up by his elbows until we were almost nose-to-nose; I became acutely aware of the way the distance between us seemed to grow infinitely smaller, and I could see what felt like every detail of his handsome face.

And I'd never noticed before, but Mitsuhide had a _very_ handsome face.

It was impossible to deny the allure of his fine bone structure or his knife-edged jawline, or the way his eyes were tilted at just the precise angle that, as he studied me from beneath those lashes, I couldn't help but lose myself in the lamplight reflected on those gilded hues.

Mitsuhide's warm breath mingled with mine, smelling faintly of cinnamon and honey and sake. His well-defined cheekbones seemed so sharp and yet so soft at the same time, and I resisted the urge to reach over and caress them— a sudden heat came over me, and I slammed backward and away from him.

The outside world came back to me in full force at the sudden distance. I hadn't realized that I, too, had been leaning forward, closer to him, until I registered how far back I had to move to be at arms' length. I was hit with the smell of the common area— a smell of alcohol and smoke and strong incense— not unpleasant, but rude compared to the way I'd felt like I'd been getting intoxicated off Mitsuhide's sweet scent of cinnamon and honey and sake. My mind drifted to risque images of being surrounded by that aroma, feeling him overpower my senses—

I broke off the thought with a groan and pulled my hair back, fanning my face and ignoring my pledge to stay sober. Mitsuhide lifted a brow when I desperately snatched away his unfinished cup of sake and greedily downed it— I would do anything to chase away those thoughts from my mind, memories of a long, biteable neck and the desire to kiss away that smile.

Who would have known that of all the men here, it would be Mitsuhide to turn me into a creature of lust?

"I'm leaving," I rasped, my voice sounding needy and fervid to my own ears. I stood abruptly, face hot with anger. I refused to look at him— I could almost see the triumphant smirk on his face, how he surely knew the way he affected me.

But then he echoed,with genuine curiosity, "You're leaving? Where?" and I looked his way to snap at him before the words died on my tongue. Because there, written clear as day on that face, was disappointment.

My mind launched into an immediate list of scenarios— _he's only pretending he doesn't know what he just did, don't think he's innocent—_ before I shooed them away, desperate to make my way to the cool night air.

"I don't know. I'll go into town, probably. There are still some shops open, and so I might just buy some food there."

"Don't go." He spoke it with such commanding force that I faltered for a moment, wondering what he meant by that. "It's dangerous in town. If you really are that restless, then go take a walk in the gardens, _inside_ the gates. But please, don't let me be the fool who let you wander around so late at night. A pretty little thing like you is sure to come across trouble."

Where that comment would normally wind me up, the new flavor that heated his sinful grin as he said it sent a fire raging through me, and all I could manage was a half-hearted, "Fine. But this pretty little thing thinks you're a fool anyway."

He let out a warm, throaty chuckle as I fleeted for the door, slowing only once I could look up at the moon and let out a sigh.

 _What the hell was that?_

I'd had friends back home who'd always squealed on and on about the allure of dangerous men, but I'd never seen the appeal. Yet the picture of Mitsuhide in the soft orange glow of the lamplight was so vivid that I could still feel the warmth of his skin against mine.

Everything about him was deliberate. Every curve of his lips, every gleam in his eyes— it was all set with a purpose to entice, to lure thirsty mouths in with the promise of trust before clamping his jaws hard over anyone foolish enough to do so. I had no business falling for the trap.

 _Then why can't you stop thinking about what happened in there?_

I shuddered the thought away, trying to focus on the scenery around me and not the heated room only a brisk walk over.

The green foliage of the garden, colored navy in the night—

The stars overhead, brighter than they could ever be in the twenty-first century —

The crunch of gravel under a second pair of footsteps, and—

—and I was caught in someone's arms, bent over backwards, my body pressed against his and his lips pressed against mine. It took me not even a moment to realize who it was; the scent of cinnamon and honey and sake engulfed me, the taste far sweeter than I would have imagined it to be.

Mitsuhide's tongue ran along the top row of my teeth in earnest and I was kissing back with equal desperation, wrapping my arms around his neck and entangling my fingers in his hair and pulling him closer, _closer_. Our lips moved in starved desire: forceful on both ends and hot-blooded with the tension of the night. Lust exploded within me as I heard him respond to my involuntary moans with a carnal one of his own, deep and vibrating within the chest that was pulled flush against mine.

One large hand moved from my hip to grasp my cheek firmly, the other hand moving from its spot at the small of my back to trace a slow, teasing, _burning_ line up the curve of my spine and between my shoulderblades, then back down. I could hear my own ragged gasps at the sensation, moving my grip desperately from his tangled hair to take fistfuls of the front of his kimono—

And just like that, it was over, just before I could get enough.

Mitsuhide pulled away, the cold night air that I'd desperately sought out earlier suddenly merciless without the warmth of being engulfed in him.

"What . . . _what_. . ."

I gasped for air, hair undone, kimono dishveled, as I gripped at my pounding chest while the insufferable man simply tidied himself and smiled at me like nothing had happened. Unbelievable.

"You never let me finish in there. Give what you hope to receive, my little chatelaine." He gave a mocking bow, then straightened with a triumphant smirk. "I'll be seeing you. I look forward to our next chance to get to know each other better."

And Mitsuhide was gone like that, his tall form like a long cat striding back up the gravel path, leaving me behind.

I marched, indignant, to a bench and slumped onto it, catching my breath as a disbelieving laugh escaped me. _So he knew what he was doing after all._

The nerve of that snake, talking as if there would _be_ a next chance. But inside, I knew that whatever had awakened between the two of us tonight would refuse to go back to sleep.

"You know, Mitsuhide?" I murmured softly to myself with a smirk. "I look forward to it too."

* * *

 **A transfer from my Tumblr (mitsushide) and AO3 (knowledge) accounts to my Fanfiction account, now that ff has given us the Ikemen Sengoku category. I hope you enjoyed!**


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